


All good things come in purple and white

by HellsPurestDevil



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Thomas, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Lingerie, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Strap-Ons, Thomas is such a bottom it's unreal, Top Angelica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 23:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17395442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellsPurestDevil/pseuds/HellsPurestDevil
Summary: If it had been any other girl, he would never had agreed to this. But Angelica was his favorite. She could do whatever she wanted if he was in the mood for it.





	All good things come in purple and white

This had not been the first time they’ve ended up like this, tangled together.

It happened once before, then again and then again -- and then Thomas had stopped counting all together, because the number grew all too large to remember over the past few months, and all too significant. Better not to know. After all ignorance is bliss as they say, and lord, the things she does with - to - him cross the line into blissful. So make that Sweet blissful ignorance.

When it had started tonight, it had been simple, kissing and biting, grabbing at each other, dry humping through their clothes. All the right amounts of _please_ and _yes_ with gracious amounts of fire between themselves, before they grew too needy, wanting something other than their hands at each other's clothes, working on taking off their own.

They had barely made it to his bedroom before he had stripped down to his boxers, his skin covered in a thin layer of sweat, his obvious erection outlined against his dark navy boxers. But despite his hopes of seeing more of her when he turned around, She on the other hand had right then and there decided it best to be a tease tonight. She had stripped to only her panties and a solid black worn out tank top.

He did love her in her lingerie, don't get him wrong. He loved and was equally jealous how the silk and the lace and the satin hugged her and lifted her in all the right places so his hands didn't have too; how green intensified the shine behind her eyes, how red set her body on fire, how blue was her favourite, how black contrasted her and brought out her curves perfectly, how she loved the irony of innocence that white represented. Still, watching her now, leaning against him in her purple cotton panties and simple black worn out tank top, he concluded she was sexier than ever.

Hovering over him on all fours, she slipped her hands into his to link their fingers and push his arms above his head. Leaning down to kiss him softly, teasingly, she pressed their joined hands into the pillows, pinning his arms down. Her unspoken signal that she wanted to take charge tonight, to spoil him after a hard day at work… to dote on him.

Any other night would have been different, which was why when he grinned against her mouth, she knew he had agreed and it had surprised her. He felt it in how she grew tense for a split moment. He was never the type to give up control that easily, he was too selfish, but even so, he loved being the focus of her attention.

But the moment she had relaxed, she took the control she had been graciously given. She released his hands and cupped his face, moving her lips tenderly across his mouth, slowly sliding her tongue inside, relishing the bourbon and coffee combination that lingered against his own tongue. His arms wrapped tightly round her, pulling her flush against his body, before his hands tangled in her hair to hold her head steady as the kiss moved from gentle to needy. Letting him chase her tongue back into her mouth, she suddenly turned tables by sucking hard on his tongue, hearing him moan and feeling his cock, still trapped within the confines of his boxers, twitch beneath her. She slid her hands into his silky curls, massaging her way in slow circles across his scalp. Nuzzling her way across his face, leaving gentle butterfly kisses in her wake, she ghosted her lips down his neck, hearing him sigh her name.

Breaking the kiss, she raised herself up slightly to study his face, the strong jawline just begging to be nibbled, the long nose, piercing eyes and soft lips, seeing the lines of stress and strain which gradually eased out as he relaxed under her ministrations.

  
When Angelica took the lead during their little endeavors, she usually alternated between demanding caresses that sparked his desire into life so fast it left them sweaty and sated as she ruthlessly exploited every one of his hot spots, to soft and languid that left them both breathless and boneless yet pleased.

Thomas loved either version, it made no difference to him. But when she was like this, her caresses soothing and easing rather than arousing, when she touched him almost reverently, he found to have liked it more. He was all one for hard fucks and quick escapades, but when she got her hands on him, he found he had a thing for the slow and steady too.

He found he liked a lot of things when _she_ did them

Nibbling his earlobe, she licked her way to suckle on the spot below his ear which always drove him crazy, enjoying his strangled gasp as his hands caressed her back, slipping under her tank top and traced the outline of the cross he could now map blindfold against her spine.

Trying not to get distracted by the feel of his fingers on her skin, she buried her face in his neck, breathed in the familiar mixture that was uniquely Thomas, Old Spice, coffee -he must have been like Alexander, it must have oozed out of his pores by now- his lavender laundry detergent, smells from his work, stale caramel, ink from broken pens, wood polish. All smells that when she breathed them, relaxed and excited her.

Kissing across his collarbone, her hands smoothed down his chest and arms, pausing when she reached his left shoulder, pressing a soft open mouthed kiss to a small scar he had gotten when he was far younger then he was now.

Continuing her loving exploration, she licked and kissed her way across his broad chest, enjoying the contrast between the smooth skin and the dark chest hair. Lavishing attention on his nipples, she smiled against his warm skin as he arched his back when she bit down, before gently soothing the sting away with her tongue. Her hands weren't idle either, stroking and massaging his supple shoulder muscles, feeling each knot loosen beneath her kneading fingers. Against her ear, she heard him sigh, relaxing into the tenderness of her touch, feeling the stresses of the day drain away while his desire built slowly. Turning her caresses soft, she eased her fingers gently into the taut muscles surrounding his shoulder, seeking to work out the tension without hurting him.

He watched her face, seeing her bite her lip in concentration as she loosened each muscle with her patient fingers. He couldn't suppress a sigh as another knot melted, her touch both calming and arousing in equal measure. He always loved how she touched him, how she would run her hands and fingers and mouth unhurriedly over his entire body.

She'd always been able to turn him on with merely a look, made worse… or better, depending on how you looked at it…with a touch, since when were finally together.

Sometimes she would spend hours after they'd made love, ghosting her fingers lightly over him, head propped on one hand as if she was re-learning every line, every hollow, pausing over his many scars and blemishes. He wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve such adoration and attention but he wasn't one to complain about being lavished with attention.

Eventually satisfied that his shoulders were looser, she ran her tongue down each arm, giggling as he squirmed when she hit a ticklish spot, and the look on his face as he pouted.

He let his head fall back on the pillows when she turned her attention to his hands. She loved his hands, the size of them, the strength in every line, the rough palms that could cup her whole face in only one hand, and the long, sensitive callused fingers that could drive her wild with a stroke, or caress her with such tenderness it actually brought tears to her eyes.

Dancing her fingers lightly over the dip in one of his abs, she leaned down to follow her caress with her lips. Sweeping her tongue in soft licks across his warm skin, she dipped it into his belly button, making him jump off the bed. Moaning, he laid his hands on her head, urging her on.

Angelica smirks, pulls her head up, away from his hands, runs a hand over his left peck, says, "aren't you eager, _sir_?" and fuck, he could feel his cock twitch with that. She must have felt it too cause soon she's hovering above him again” “ _Sir_ ,” she says, mouth on Thomas’s neck, sucking too long on tender places to ensure he is left bruised, marked. It has the intended effect and he moans, deep, grinds into her.

  
He doesn’t know when she had first started to call him sir in these particular moments, he only knows that it elicits something deep and wanting in him. He remembers the first time the word came out of her mouth. Remembers the first day he met her. Her first day as a secretary in his work office. Her coming into his office to hand him some papers. He didn't remember her at first, but the _sir_ that greeted him with a open door had sent a shudder through his body, and a tingle down his spine so fast and hurriedly, he barely had enough time to contain himself before he realized who it was that uttered that word.

The word had such a lurid connotation, now. Occasionally he would hear someone at work say _Mr. Jefferson, sir_ and the rhythm of it would cause his heart to jitter for a moment, for all the blood in him to run thick and warm in his veins and pool down to the same spot that now at this very moment needed the most attention.

Using the palm on his chest as leverage, she sat up to straddle his firm thighs, running her eyes admiringly up the line of the strong body spread out before her. The lean hips and firm abs, well-muscled chest with its smattering of hair, broad shoulders and powerful arms all spoke of a wiry strength. He lay quietly, one arm behind his head, allowing her inspection, his need telegraphed in his accelerated breathing, darkened eyes… and the erect, swollen cock that was peaking through the bunch up hem of his boxers, already weeping pre-cum, begging for her attention as it strained against his stomach.

But she doesn't touch him, like he wants her too. Instead he finds her crawling back up to his face, fingertips ghosting themselves shyly against his stomach and abs. Finds her leaning against his ear.

And then she asks him. And Thomas groans, finding his erection straining harder at her request but his gut also twisting.

He knows he's never been one to relinquish control, never has had the pleasure of being ‘that guy’ when expectations for peak performance have been so high it would knock even the most willful down a few pegs. But he also knows he won't deny her. Rarely does she ask for anything, too proud just like him. So when she does ask, he finds himself fulfilling her requests and desires.

And tonight's no different, it just takes a whisper and a nip at his earlobe and Thomas finds the word alright tumbling from his lips faster than anticipated. He's still unsure. But he can't deny her, not after seeing how her face lights up when he agrees. She's off him in a split second and Thomas closes his eyes for a few moments, opening them just in time to see the last peaking glance of her purple undergarments disappear into the bathroom.

Willing his limbs to move, he finds himself rolling onto his stomach, pushing himself up on his arms and knees, stretching out his back. Relaxing.

She startles him when she comes back. A _Fuck_! jumps out of his throat and Jefferson finds himself suddenly lurching forward, back bowing as he falls, face first into his mattress, as one of her sly hands slides itself up his back, tailbone to shoulder blades.

His face pressed into the pillow, he hears her giggle a apology for scaring him. He huffs, turns his head. He can't see her, barely catching fleeting glances of her arms or legs as she crawls onto the bed which dips under her weight.

His momentary fright forgotten, he shivers at the feel of freshly cut nails dragging down the skin of his back, hard enough to feel, but not hard enough to make him bleed like they tended to do other nights. Fingers turn into palms, and soon he finds himself under the mercy of her talented hands once again. However his blissful haze at the massage turned slightly heated when Angelica moved her fingers inside the waist of his boxers and gently began to tug. He smiled to himself for a moment and wriggled to help her get them off faster. He didn't catch the evil smirk she produced as she started massaging his feet and moved up to his ankles and the calves. Thomas just kept humming in approval as he lay there allowing her to do as she pleased, and do as she pleased she fully intended to do.

Thomas suddenly felt a sharp chill shoot up his spine when Angelica placed her fingers nimbly on his inner thighs. She rubbed slowly and Thomas faintly felt the tips of her thumbs touch along the curve in his balls.

He feels the bed shift again, she's kissing the back of his neck now, nips and sucks hard enough to leave bruises and her one hand moves from his thighs to between his legs, and soon he feels the tip of one now spit-slick finger circle gently at the rim. Thomas is tense, at first, still wondering if he should go through with this. But she's gentle and the softness of her hands is shocking the hell out of him. And soon her lips are by his ear again, asking permission, and his focus shifts and the slow friction of the finger turns from almost taboo to pleasurable. He agrees and soon her finger presses in, slow, and he exhales roughly. She rocks her finger, gentle, and it’s not like when Thomas has done it to himself, this is foreign and strange but her finger soon crooks and drags and Thomas moans from it. It's so different, someone else inside him in this way, the roles reversed.

Abruptly, Angelica withdraws and Thomas finds himself actually whining at the feeling of emptiness. But he feels the bed shift again, hears the familiar sound of a cap unscrew. Something wet drips on his leg and he suddenly wonders if it'll stain the bed as it slides down the side. But the thought doesn't stay for long, cause soon the finger is back, drawing gentle circles around his rim again, and then the same finger is sliding in, slicker this time, going in easier. She continues to move her finger, sliding in and out, and soon Thomas is moaning, and Angelica adds a second finger.

“Fuck,” he hisses – it's not painful, not really, but the foreign sensation is odd enough that he feels as if it should. He's fully aware of the hypocrisy of this, and suddenly he marvels at how easily Angelica had taken his fingers in their past encounters, opening for two, three, and his cock not soon after. He suddenly wonders if the sensation is the same between them. If she feels the same as he does when she's riding his fingers. He hopes she does.

Angelica keeps her fingers moving inside him and soon it no longer felt uncomfortable, the sensation altering in a snap, morphing into pure pleasure as he moans at the feeling of crooked fingertips dragging across his prostate, the feeling of it jolting up his spine and down his balls and cock, a new kind of pleasure largely unexplored.

“I think it be best…” he begins, but his tongue feels thick and words feel far-gone like his thoughts, “if you go ahead and fuck me now before I change my mind”. An empty threat, Thomas knows he's too far in to pull back now. But now the thought of retreating sounded like a really stupid idea.

“Is that so?” She says, but she makes no motion of stopping, grinning down at him. Thomas blinks his eyes, tries to focus, though it's difficult, for her fingers are still working at him, which is ten different types of distracting.

“Fuck, _yes_ ,” he says, more wantingly this time, because he wants her, but also because the things that woman was doing with her hand would make any man agree to anything she said or did, just to keep the sensation going.

  
“Well then….Yes, _sir_ ,” she says mouth smiling. There she went with the _sir_ again. God that word. God what that word could do to him. If He wasn't trying so damn hard to keep it together, that word alone would make him come undone faster than anything.

Angelica withdraws her fingers, then Thomas felt the heaviness of her pressing against his back.  
Something pressed between his legs at first, grinding against the underside of his cock slow and languidly. It's slick and ridged and feels incredible against his skin to the point he's shuddering when it hits certain sweet spots

“Please,” he says – he’s not one prone to begging, but she's drawn it out of him and he can't help it.

He breathes, and relaxes, and he feels the object of his desire stretch him as it breaches him, just barely. It’s a different sensation than fingers, denser, a bit thicker, slick. Angelica is still, unmoving, and Thomas groans, trying to push back, draw her in closer. Taking the hint, Angelica presses in, just a bit more, and with the distance closed, drags the head of the strap-on against his prostate, and fuck, he can see now how women will come untouched, sometimes. Angelica presses further, deeper, and then she’s flush against Thomas and he’s filled, stretched.

There’s a tender, almost heartbreaking caution in the Schuyler's movements - still slow, tentative, a different being entirely compared to the one would so boldly sink to her knees at the snap of a finger. Her movements are unhurried, slow and Thomas gasps, the slow rolling of his own hips causing the wet head of his cock, which had become trapped between him and the bed, to drag along the folds of the sheets, his lungs fluttering rapidly, like he’s taken a crowbar to the ribcage. When the head of the strap-on dragged against his prostate, his fingers dug into the cover of his pillow, sweat pouring from his temples, rolling down his skin in rivulets, slicking the bed sheets as he pressed his forehead to the pillow and tried to gain some semblance of control over his wanting body.

_But damn is she making it hard to think straight._

He groans, he whines, a plea of _Hurry the fuck up_ , jumbled with a sex induced haze clouding his brain, passes through panting lips.

Angelica obliges, thrusts forward, burying her forehead into his neck - thank god - and now she finds a rhythm, still careful, and Thomas finds himself arching back into it. “Fuck, yes--” his sentence is warped into a gasp as the head of strap-on slides again, the angle now changed and Angelica finds that spot deep inside him again and again and Thomas finds his own world narrowing down to a sensation so perfect, he's grabbing at his pillow, pulling it's cover with his teeth eyes screwed shut.

Unfortunately, right as the precipice of the event dawned it head, Angelica pulled away from him, making him grit his teeth at the feeling of loss, leaving Jefferson feeling wet, empty, and impatient. He whined at the exit, but then suddenly he felt fingers pressing into the dips his hip bones, gently tugging him upward, and he finds himself panting and having to steady himself when he opens his eyes, as he brings his backend upwards, his ass in the air, face pressed into his pillow.

Facedown and ass-up, Thomas grabbed at the sheets when slick fingers slipped back into him again, twisting as he rocked into it, feeling helpless and bidden to these sensations, to Angelica.

If Thomas hadn't been so damn out of it, he would've questioned why she was using her fingers again, but as soon as Angelica’s other hand wrapped around his swollen erection, which twitched and throb as it hung in the air, he submitted to her completely, once again, without question or complaint. The softness of her hands shocked the hell out of him as she rubbed her hand up and down slowly against the length of his manhood. Thomas tried not to whimper as her mouth wrapped around his balls as she sucked and worked the bottom of his shaft while her other hand continued to torture the tip of his manhood.

And then just like that Angelica withdrew once again. He whimpered when she fully removed herself and lightly brushed her lips against the sensitive skin of his shoulders. She continued to shower him in kisses as her hands roamed over his body, the tip of the strap-on resting comfortably against his entrance.

However Jefferson could only take so much teasing before it became unbearable. So when she pulled away for a third, teasing time. Thomas grunted “oh for the love of god, you're driving me fucking crazy” and that was apparently all she needed to hear cause not even a moment after the words were spewed, Angelica began pressing back into him.

"I like the way you open up for me, sir -- you're so pretty--" and she was moving again, little jots against the hot center, making Thomas’s breath change and his skin flush, and the way Thomas’s stomach clenched at that well-known voice teasing him to seek a response, must have fueled some deep hidden ego in her, cause she suddenly began to move faster, the intricate metal headboard of the bed hitting against the wall is repeating raps-Thomas would worry later of it scuffing the wall.

French and English soon blended together into a crazed hot mix as Thomas’s brain tried to wrapped around what language he should be using at a time like this. Normally Angelica liked it when he spoke French to her. His southern accent, while mostly hidden, taking on a whole new flavor in a foreign tongue. But that was when he was dominant. The one in control. When he could pick and choose his words carefully. Not now though. Not when he was on the receiving end, babbling out incoherent sentences as his secretary turned girlfriend downright fucked him.

If it had been any other girl, he would never had agreed to this. But Angelica was his favorite. She could do whatever she wanted if he was in the mood for it and was in a subby mood to top it off. And it showed, as he allowed her to choose her pacing and strength without so much as a single protest or complaint. A rarity by most standpoints, The only sounds coming out being moans groans and jumbled speech.

And yet despite all of that, he still needed more (call him selfish he knew he was) and soon Thomas found himself shifting weight on one shoulder, his own hand traveling down beneath his body to fist and tug at his erection, which had been up until then, dripping pre-cum onto his sheets. His groan was nothing sort of pornographic, his hand sliding up and down, stroking himself in tandem with the pace Angelica was keeping.

Suddenly, he felt his hand get pushed away and was about to protest, when a smaller softer hand took its place, gradually moving up and down his erection. And the protest died on his lips before they even had a chance to form. Angelica kept pace, driving into Thomas in such a relentless way that he knew it would cause him to ache tomorrow, but now all he feels is pleasure rocketing its way through him.

Besides, he can take a sick day off, if it meant he would get this again.

They went at it for a while, Thomas loss sense of time, but the pressure was building up, like waves beating against the sands. It didn't take much more before the muscles in Jefferson’s jaw clenched tight, his teeth creaking under the strain. The joints of the bed creaked under the still going abuse, and suddenly Jefferson growled between his teeth as Angelica twisted her wrist in such a certain way that it caused his insides clenched up and everything to go blank in a violent flash of white as he spilled over Angelica's hand. It took less than a minute. He cried aloud with the strength of his climax, unable to help himself. It was as if someone had touched a match to a whole network of nerves just under his skin, nerves that plunged deep to form the living webwork of his groin. He now could understand why so many a’writer made that connection between orgasm and death. He felt as if he had died and gone to heaven as she fucked him through the orgasm, each drag of the strap-on sending another wave through him, sending him deeper and deeper down into the depths of orgasmic bliss.

Suddenly unable to hold his weight anymore, Thomas groaned as he fell flat against the mattress the moment Angie pulled out. And there he lay in the dimness, his head against the pillow, his chest heaving, his mouth open. He was actually afraid to look down. He felt as though quarts of semen must have splattered all over everything.

_  
Young feller, we’ve struck oil!_

  
He looked at her shamefacedly as she unclipped the strap-on, embarrassed at the seemingly hair-triggered way he had gone off. He had hopped he hadn't ruined it for her, knowing that she would want to keep going. But she was only smiling at him with those calm, dark eyes that seemed to know everything, the eyes of a very young girl in a Victorian painting.

He didn't make much if an effort to move as he felt her nails lightly trail against his back, his body oiled in sweat . It had shocked him how much he had released and he had become concerned for his health when his vision went blurry and his body continued to spasm. But as soon as his head went into the new path to pure blissful haziness, he managed to relax, turning his head to stare at her with a blissful calm look on his face

Angelica tenderly kissed his forehead, breathing in his sweaty musky scent, as she waited for his body to stop shaking and die down to trembles. Thomas wrapped his limp arm around her and held her close as he recovered.

"Damn babe… I thought you killed me there for a second," he said seriously.

Angelica looked at him; both overcome with a sense of victory and as sense of shock. "You aren't just saying that to make me feel good are you?"

Thomas chuckled, feeling the blood pump in his head. "Trust me babe. A guy doesn't have to lie about sex. I don't think any other girl could make me feel like…ah." Thomas went faint with another layer of pleasure rolling off him. His legs and belly still quivered with reverberations, the rest of his body aching so tenderly he couldn't even move and allowed his sore muscles to go numb.

Just when he was about to slip into the sweet delirious solitude with the feeling of her nails against his skin, Thomas spoke again softly before he dozed.

_“And they had the audacity to call Alexander, **Little Lion**.”_

She smiled and kissed his temple. Then Thomas fell into post orgasmic bliss.


End file.
